Harsha Harsha Harsha

Meryl and I are feeling rather repressed after the unwelcome return of the tragically irritable woman known as Harsha.

The effort it costs me to complain isn't worth ten times the excuse of a colleague she is.

I was slightly amused by Ismat's new enthusiasm for the dispensary. Two days ago I saw her watching me process a script from the corner of my eye. Yesterday Mirjana was seen teaching her how to dispense, and the eager beaver took over.

Whatever. Being mostly likely to spend the rest of my life behind the counter I'm not exactly treasuring the experience. What I thought took a lot of nerve, however, was for Ismat to call me to the dispensary for the more mundane task of putting away stock. I suppose she has become too accustomed to delegating the less pleasant aspects of her job to doormats like me. Of course I ended up doing it. You can't fight the workplace food-web. Nom-nom.